Camping Out [Finished]
Feb 13, 2010 12:39:33 GMT -5
Post by inFamousL on Feb 13, 2010 12:39:33 GMT -5
Oz Myrrh:
Oz was running from the Cornucopia. Running HARD! There was no time to fight. No time to try and shed blood. All Oz could think of was running. The snow blasted up in the air as his boots made impact on the ground. Every step was agonizing after running for more then ten seconds. Since he was asthmatic, he couldn't run forever. He gasped and clutched at his heart.
He was running in the direction of the frozen lake. He could only think of getting there. He had a fishing net... so he could use his Cleaver to break open the ice and use the jerky to get fish! He knew how to trap. He had gotten the worst pack. So he had to make due as well.
Running and running... does anything else matter? The camera's probably aren't fallowing him. He was the least important. A soft heart kid couldn't do too much harm. But they would like to pick him off of course. So he had to keep himself interesting. First was first however. He had to get to the lake and gain some fish before he did anything else.
He was almost there before he heard another cannon go off. He grimaced as he imagined somebody else die. He then remembered Jayson. His ally... he turned around, but he couldn't just go back. He had seen him die too! Well, fall to the ground, but he might be dead. Oz had to decide what to do... go back and risk death? Or just keep running.
Oz fell to his knees and clutched his heart. His asthma was acting up. His heart couldn't take just sitting after a big work out. He decided to leave him and run. Oz got up, turned to the lake, then ran faster.
He finally reached the ice lake and slipped down. He hit his elbow. Hitting his funny bone as well. It didn't feel too good so he clutched it. He stiffed a cry just in case anybody else was nearby. Once his arm's pain subsided, he got up and took out the Cleaver and the fishing net.
"Let's do this," he said. He went to the lake and used the cleaver to make a big hole in it. One pound! Two pounds! Three pounds! And it was open. His Cleaver was a war Cleaver or something... It was a little dull now, but he would sharpen it later. He took out his fishing net and threw it in the little hole.
He waited for a few minutes before pulling out the fishing net and with it, five fish emerged with it. He smiled and took the fishing net back to his pack. He sat down and put the net away, closing it so the fish couldn't escape somehow... He then started to make camp by gathering sticks to make a lean to.
Oz was running from the Cornucopia. Running HARD! There was no time to fight. No time to try and shed blood. All Oz could think of was running. The snow blasted up in the air as his boots made impact on the ground. Every step was agonizing after running for more then ten seconds. Since he was asthmatic, he couldn't run forever. He gasped and clutched at his heart.
He was running in the direction of the frozen lake. He could only think of getting there. He had a fishing net... so he could use his Cleaver to break open the ice and use the jerky to get fish! He knew how to trap. He had gotten the worst pack. So he had to make due as well.
Running and running... does anything else matter? The camera's probably aren't fallowing him. He was the least important. A soft heart kid couldn't do too much harm. But they would like to pick him off of course. So he had to keep himself interesting. First was first however. He had to get to the lake and gain some fish before he did anything else.
He was almost there before he heard another cannon go off. He grimaced as he imagined somebody else die. He then remembered Jayson. His ally... he turned around, but he couldn't just go back. He had seen him die too! Well, fall to the ground, but he might be dead. Oz had to decide what to do... go back and risk death? Or just keep running.
Oz fell to his knees and clutched his heart. His asthma was acting up. His heart couldn't take just sitting after a big work out. He decided to leave him and run. Oz got up, turned to the lake, then ran faster.
He finally reached the ice lake and slipped down. He hit his elbow. Hitting his funny bone as well. It didn't feel too good so he clutched it. He stiffed a cry just in case anybody else was nearby. Once his arm's pain subsided, he got up and took out the Cleaver and the fishing net.
"Let's do this," he said. He went to the lake and used the cleaver to make a big hole in it. One pound! Two pounds! Three pounds! And it was open. His Cleaver was a war Cleaver or something... It was a little dull now, but he would sharpen it later. He took out his fishing net and threw it in the little hole.
He waited for a few minutes before pulling out the fishing net and with it, five fish emerged with it. He smiled and took the fishing net back to his pack. He sat down and put the net away, closing it so the fish couldn't escape somehow... He then started to make camp by gathering sticks to make a lean to.
